So Much I Could Taste It
by Mrs.Dickens713
Summary: How Charles Carson persuades himself to propose to Elsie Hughes.


So Much I Could Taste It

**A/N: S5 Spoiler Alert Be ye warned, spoilers abound. **

_So much I could taste it. _

_I've enjoyed our little dream._

_I'm a pauper._

_There is no place for me in the project._

Because it was a nice idea.

_Now I've embarrassed you._

_So much I could taste it._

Irritably he shifted again in his small bed and thumped his pillow _again_ for good measure. How could he have been so insensitive? Her kindness literally knew no bounds. Knowing her complete and utter dependence on the Crawleys made every gesture, every risk she took on behalf of others even more courageous. It was in her nature to help; she could not stand by and let another suffer, no matter the cost.

He sighed and scrubbed his face. He felt tears pricking behind his eyelids. What was the matter with him? It was a business venture after all. It's not as though he wouldn't be able to invest in the property without her assistance. It was just…just… _We'd share the work_. And that was it, wasn't it? The promise of being able to share the work for always. _Forever_. His stomach rumbled uncomfortably with nerves. _It was never anything as simple as a business venture, was it Charlie? Mebbe it was **her** you wanted so much you could taste it, eh lad? _Charles rolled over again, this time putting the pillow firmly against his ear. That would show him.

*CE*

Over the next few days, he observed Mrs. Hughes carefully. The question of why she would even entertain the notion of purchasing a property with him when she had no money to do so was driving him mad. They had looked at several properties over the last few months, and she had engaged in a vigorous debate with him over the merits of each. _I've enjoyed our little dream_. That phrase haunted him night and day. What could she have meant by it? What did he want her to have meant by it? Could he persuade her to mean what he wanted her to mean by it? Bah.

"Are you quite alright Mr. Carson?"

Jolted from his reverie, he looked down into the inquiring face of Miss Baxter. "Perfectly well, thank you."

_If a bit gruff_, she thought amusedly. The poor man hadn't realized he'd been staring at the door of Mrs. Hughes' sitting room for over a minute. She hadn't wanted to interrupt him, but she felt he might prefer her interruption to some other members of staff. She sighed. Whatever it was those two needed to work out, it would have to be done without her assistance. She already had quite enough irons in the fire as it was.

*CE*

Delicacy prevented him from inquiring further about her sister, and since her admission, their evening talks had become strained. She was such a private person, more so than he'd ever given her credit for. She was always poking about in the business of others. A sudden, vivid image of her confronting him in his pantry over a letter he'd discarded from Grigg almost made him laugh aloud. Perhaps one of the reasons she was so intent on meddling in the affairs of others was to keep others from meddling in her own. The thought sobered him.

"Have you had a pleasant day, Mrs. Hughes?"

She looked up in surprise. "I suppose so. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." He swirled the wine in his glass intently. "No reason at all."

"Did you have a pleasant day?"

"Indeed. Nothing out of the ordinary. A perfectly ordinary day." Why was he nattering on like a booby? He didn't think he'd ever felt this uncomfortable in her presence.

"Sometimes those are the very best days, though I'll wager some of the younger staff would disagree."

"Some?" He scoffed. "I'd say they all would. Don't know enough to be grateful for what they've got," he groused. Not like his Mrs. Hughes. _But she isn't yours, is she Charlie?_

"They're young yet, Mr. Carson," she soothed. "There's plenty of time to learn."

"Don't tell me you were ever ungrateful or impatient."

"I was most certainly both, Mr. Carson, and don't tell me you don't believe it!"

He chuckled softly. "I suppose we all had our moments of youthful folly and ignorance."

"I'd dearly love to hear some of yours, Mr. Carson."

Was she flirting with him? He looked at her in alarm, but she was studiously replacing the button on one of his waistcoats. His heart clenched to think of her performing such a menial task for him. He flapped his hand in the direction of her needle. "Why do you do that? Surely one of the maids in the laundry can take care of that?"

She smiled. "Mr. Carson, the maids in the laundry have quite enough to do without mending your clothes, or mine, for that matter. Besides, some of them are quite intimidated by you."

"Intimidated by me? What on earth for?"

"Come now, Mr. Carson, you can't pretend you haven't got a fearsome temper at times."

"Only when it's warranted, Mrs. Hughes. I never scream and shout simply for the sake of doing so."

"_I_ know that, but there are those who don't. In any case, I don't mind. I like being useful to y- around the house."

It wasn't his imagination. She had actually almost said she liked being useful to him. He felt his face relax into a smile, which he quickly hid. Wouldn't do to appear smug. Not now, not when he was so close. So close to what? _To what you've never been able to admit you want, Charlie boy. _"You know, I see a lot of you in Miss Baxter."

"Really?" Mrs. Hughes looked surprised, and not at all pleasantly surprised.

"What I mean to say is, she is always useful and busy, and seems to seek out opportunities to help other staff members." He was pleased to see the quizzical look she'd worn relax into a smile. "She seems to have a particular way with Mr. Barrow, for which we should all be thankful."

Mrs. Hughes nodded her head quietly, then efficiently snapped through the thread and tied off the buttonhole. "There. All finished."

His breath caught in his throat. He could picture it, suddenly and without warning. The two of them, sitting companionably before an evening fire in their own cottage. When she'd finished her sewing, it would be time to retire. Together. He swallowed audibly. It was most definitely time for him to retire.

He rose abruptly. "I'll say goodnight, Mrs. Hughes."

"Are you quite well, Mr. Carson?"

Not the first woman to ask him that today. "Quite, Mrs. Hughes. I just fancy an early night. I'll lock up and see you in the morning."

"Very well." She stood. "Don't forget to take your waistcoat." She held it out to him in the dim lamplight, so soft and inviting. It would be nothing to lean down and… She pressed the waistcoat into his hands. "I'll just say goodnight, then."

"Yes, yes of course. Good night." He made his rounds in a daze, clutching his waistcoat and planning for a future he'd never thought possible.

*CE*

If the agent thought it odd that he registered the property on Brouncker Road under two names, two unconnected names, he wisely kept any misgivings to himself. With a final celebratory flourish, the property was theirs. If she would consent. She had to consent. But what if she didn't? _Courage, Charlie, me old laddie. I think the woman's half mad for you, meself._ "Oh do shut up." He tipped his hat to the astonished agent and made his way back to the Abbey.

*CE*

She followed him downstairs, pausing only to prepare two cups of punch for them. She looked cautious as he ushered her into his pantry and shut the door behind them (they were always interrupted, always, and he wanted no one to burst in upon them unannounced).

She held out a cup of punch.

"I don't think I should."

"Go on! It's Christmas. Let's toast your new house."

His tongue felt like sand in his mouth. "Maybe I should mention one thing. You say your new house, but it isn't only mine."

"No?"

"I've registered it in both of our names. I hope you don't mind but I hate to change a plan when there's no need."

"Mr. Carson, I'm very appreciative. Really I am. But I can't accept."

_She can't have refused me already_! "Why not?"

Who knows what the future may hold or how long we'll even be here. Suppose you want to move away and change your life entirely, you don't want to be stuck with me."

"But that's the point."

"What is?"

He took a breath. _Here goes nothing, Charlie._ "I do want to be stuck with you."

"I'm not convinced I can be hearing this right."

"You are if you think I'm asking you to marry me." _Oh gods this was excruciating. He felt a measure of grudging respect for the man who risked proposing to Elsie Hughes twice_. "Well?"

"Well. You could knock me down with a feather."

"And you're not offended?"

"Mr. Carson, I can assure you the very last thing in the world that I am at this moment is offended."

"You can take as long as you like. I won't press you because one thing I do know. I'm not marrying anyone else."

She handed him a cup of punch. "Well then."

"What exactly are we celebrating?"

"We're celebrating the fact that I can still get a marriage proposal at my age."

"And that's it?"

"Of course I'll marry you, you old booby. I thought you'd never ask."

*CE*

The feel of her hand on his arm, warm and soothing, tender and electric all at once, was a sensation he wasn't soon to forget. They couldn't be away much longer. Their absence would become conspicuous, and he wanted to inform the family and the staff at his pleasure, and hers, of course. He swallowed the great lump in his throat and raised his cup to her in a silent toast, their eyes never leaving one another's. They drained their cups, then they wordlessly made their way out of the pantry and up the back stairs, pausing only long enough for Elsie to leave the cups on the drainboard of the kitchen sink.

He watched her walk up the stairs, stairs he'd climbed hundreds of times, thousands, only now it was entirely different. He leaned his mouth close to her ear. "Are you happy my darling?" He saw her shoulders tremble and she nodded, smiling up at him as they walked in through the green baize doors, at once the same, and irrevocably changed.

**A/N: Well, I finally pushed through the massive writer's block brought on by the CS and all of my dreams coming true. Well, most of them. I must rely on ff for the remainder of my dreams, but with all the wonderful stories appearing each day, there is no lack of happily ever after for me to enjoy. This will probably remain a one-shot. I really, really want to try my hand at the Haxby drabble and I'm hoping this will help me get back in the saddle. Thanks for all of your well wishes and hopefully I've spelled Brouncker Road correctly at least once. Thanks to ChelsieFan and Emma for clarifying the spelling; I simply lifted it from Chelsiefan's marvelous new story. **


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